Fake Plastic Pleasure
by invisibleinnocence
Summary: "I love you" "I love you, too"  Never before were such lies spoken...


**If you were looking for a Sara/Takuma romance, please, close the window now. **

**...They gone yet? ...Okay. This takes place a year after "Sugar Coated Words" but I don't think it really belongs in the same story. I had trouble making this not the exact same thing...originally Akatsuki and Ruka were in it, but they got cut to be put in another one-shot at a later time.**

**I'm sorry for doing these horrible things to you, Takuma. ;A;**

* * *

Breathe in, and breathe out.

"Ichijou..."

The blonde vampire had his eyes closed and was leaning against the wall.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

"Ichijou."

He had pushed out all outside noise from his consciousness, savoring this rare moment where he could break away and relax.

Breathe in...and out...

"Ichijou!"

Cautiously, Takuma lifted an eyelid, scanning his surroundings with precious emerald eyes. To his disappointment, he was still inside the victorian-styled girls' academy, but he couldn't let his annoyance be known. No matter how hard he tried, his brain refused to associate this wretched place as a prision. No matter how desperately he wanted to leave, his limbs were held by invisible chains that not even he could see.

"I swear, he is absolutely useless at times," mumbled a particularly miffed voice that came from down below. It was followed by a crashing wave of high-pitched snickers.

He strode to the banister against his will, abiding to the call of his ultimate mistress. "Did you call for me, my lady?" he asked, hardly recognizing his own voice anymore. Takuma looked over to the room below, eyeing Sara Shirabuki lounging on the couch like the cruel princess she was. As usual, she was surrounded by her precious school girl pets, tickling one under the chin with poisonous talons. Ichijou felt a sickening feeling in his stomach.

"Come down here, Ichijou," Sara called, forcing the noble to reluctantly step down the stairs and stand tall before her. She stood up from her couch-throne and delicately strode close enough so she could see every pore of his skin. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling his head down to her height. Takuma trembled at her icy, blue stare. "I was thinking..." she ran her tongue across her teeth in thought, "You haven't been obeying me like you have, Ichijou."

Takuma looked down, not uttering a word.

She yanked at his hair, forcing him to look up, "Look at me when I'm talking to you," the demon snarled.

"...yes, Ma'am..." came Ichijou's quiet voice. He was dull to her tortuous pain by now. He was numb to everything, for that matter.

"Have you been thinking of leaving me?" she asked. He could feel her lips mouthing words against his own. "You know that I need you, Ichijou..."

"I know."

She chuckled softly, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he answered uncontrollably.

Sara leaned in farther, "That's what I like to hear..." she whispered, before locking her lips onto his. Takuma let out a muffled cry of surprise as she tipped him over on the coffee table, forcing her tongue behind his teeth in a vicious push for already achieved dominance. He could feel the smile on her face as she licked the palate of his mouth knowing that there was nothing he could do about it, but she loved to see him struggle.

Ichijou was fighting for oxygen as Sara's hold blocked any access of air. He called shouts of protest that were lost in her sexual pleasure. She undid the buttons of his dress shirt, resting her hands against his smooth, baby-like skin. Spots were appearing in front of Takuma's vision as he began to lose consciousness. He hated how there was nothing he could do, laying on precious china and delicate sweets as Sara kissed him. The room was wavering now, it was only a matter of minutes before his pain would end, for this was the worst type of torture he could endure. Unlike a slap on the face or a rip in his flesh, he would feel Sara's lips on his being for weeks on end, reminding him of the constant aggravation of being kept in this prison...no, this _Hell_.

Sara released her hold, giggling at his first desperate gasp for air. She lay her head on his shoulder and watched as he panted in weak, raspy breaths. As if bored by her victim, she let a black nail trace the scar on his chest. "You disappoint me," Sara pouted. "I was expecting so much more from a proper gentleman such as yourself." Black was clouding his vision as he begged for unconsciousness to come.

Unconsciousness meant being alone.

It meant being free.

Free from the ice queen's clutches.

And nothing, absolutely nothing at all, could mean more that that.

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**Feedback is appreciated :)**


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